


One Winged

by Firestorm717



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-24
Updated: 2010-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firestorm717/pseuds/Firestorm717
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giovanni was always willing to do anything for his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Winged

**Author's Note:**

> AU bittersweet ending, because damn it, that happy family scene in _Lineage_ always makes me want to cry T_T. (This should rightly be a Malik fic, but err... I never did finish AC1 ^^;)

The scrawl of ink was less shaky this time, the quill held with a steadier hand, though his G's still stuttered at the tails and his n's slanted a little too wide when he didn't press the nib hard enough against the parchment. He signed his name with more care now, relinquishing flourish, the once proud wings of the Auditore A clipped by a stiffer, formal script that straightened edges, tightened curves, penmanship suited to a _direttore generale_ of the Medici bank.

Laying his quill down on his desk, Giovanni closed the ledger and let his gaze wander wistfully out to the clear skies over Firenze. Terracotta rooftops glowed beneath bright azure, skipping sunbeams across the sea of ivy that embraced garden terraces, blooming with life. The cathedral bells clanged a clarion call as monks bustled like ants beneath. An eagle cast its shadow overhead, swooping spirals up the arches of the Duomo, until it landed, feathers rippling at the apex, and for a second, Giovanni could almost feel the fingers in his right hand itch for a brick to grasp, a stone to surmount. Instead, he rubbed at the hollow sleeve where his arm once was, trying to forget how the wind used to caress his skin atop the Santa Maria del Fiore, the beauty of heights that only he knew.

A soft knock came at the door, and Maria glided into his office, fine satin skirts of Venetian red rustling across the floor. "Amore," she murmured, smiling and kissing the gray at his temples.

"Mia cara Maria." Giovanni leaned into his wife's long pale neck, still lovely after all these years, and laced the fingers of his remaining hand through hers. He chided himself silently for the worry that his brooding caused his family. After all, things had turned out far better than he could've hoped, with his children grown and the Templars routed and Lorenzo's offer of _ministro_ sitting on the table - silent apology for the betrayal he did not foresee. There were no more burdens left for him to bear.

Yet still, on days like these, the assassin in him yearned for the skies he could not reach.

Sensing his longing, Maria stroked the crook of his palm. "Look." She pointed out the window. "Up there."

He followed her gaze and saw another shadow where the eagle had perched, cowl pulled low, white robes fluttering, the Auditore colors flying proud on one shoulder. As if aware of eyes on him, Ezio paused and turned in the direction of his home, lips quirking with erstwhile mischief, before leaping off the golden cross like a falcon taking to the air.

The lines on Giovanni's face relaxed into a smile. He did not regret giving up his sword arm for his family.


End file.
